


I'm Dying, I'm Dying

by MaybeThereMaybeNot



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Gen, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23654377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeThereMaybeNot/pseuds/MaybeThereMaybeNot
Summary: Like lightning, woahWhite lightningDarlin', darlin'Doesn't have a problem lyin' to herself'Cause her liquor's top shelf*Read the tags*
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 97





	I'm Dying, I'm Dying

Tim flits around the annual Wayne Family gala, face imprinted with a false smile. A glass of whiskey is in his hand, one of Jack Drake's favorite brands. Normally someone of his stature would likely be tipsy, but Damian knows for a fact that Tim drinks too much for that.

Damian stands to the side, his own champagne flutes filled with sparkling water. He honestly cannot remember the last time he saw Tim with a true smile. The aristocrats surrounding Tim genuinely seem to think he's enjoying himself, not locked into a battle between depression and alcohol abuse likely to end with Tim laying dead on the floor.

Before the gala, Tim had slipped into Damian's room, a glass of likely spiked coffee in his hand. He had set down the cup and sat on the bed, occupying his hands with tying Damian's tie.

During the simple task, his words are filled with warnings of what to expect now that he's eighteen. He's no longer a child and is truly swimming through shark-infested waters without floaties. Damian knows that his words are not meant to harm, only steer him away from following Tim's lead.

His older brother's eyes are slightly red-rimmed and filled with apathy, a humorless chuckle on his lips as he leans over to pick up and drink from his cup again.

Damian is jolted back to reality with the grating sound of one of Tim's false laughs. He stands in a crowd with other young adults that are potential investors.

It's obvious the air-headed blonde wants to hook-up with Tim as she dangles off his arm and whispers into his ear. She bats her eyes and Tim looks closer at her.

To cover it up with another laugh and likely brilliant excuse before extracting himself from the group and downing the last drops of his drink. A waiter almost seems to materialize beside Tim and the man drops the empty glass onto the platter. Damian watches as Tim leaves the gala, following not long after.

* * *

Damian patrols the streets with Tim, leaping through the darkness and blending with the shadows above a new gang. Damian cannot believe how far they came since seven years ago, both in new personas. Tim let go of his Robin identity, switching from Red Robin to Crimson. A handful of years later Damian decided himself too old for Robin and created the identity Shadow.

Tim must see something as he drops down, many of the things running scared and those who stay behind quickly dispatched, most unconscious by the time Damian leaps down.

The two also stop the armed robbery of an ice cream store, both offered a free scoop as thanks. Damian picks butter pecan while Tim predictably goes for coffee. They find a spot on top of a tall apartment complex. Silence reigns as they eat, Damian savoring each bite while Tim treats each like it might be his last.

The sunrise silhouettes Tim's gaunt features, and Damian wishes he had his sketchbook. If they weren't in masks, Damian knows that it would also highlight the deep bags.

They remain quiet, silence reigning until Tim breaks it.

"My biggest piece of advice is to not do anything I did since you met me."

Damian feels a smidge guilty as his mind flashes to Tim's apartment with a half empty cabinet and the bottle of vodka resting on the drool stained desk.

Tim leans back onto the roof, a self-depricating quirk on his lips. 

"You're lucky you have a choice. I was born a prize piece to be shown off then put back in the cabinet, breed to run the company." Tim says.

Damian pauses at the outburst. Tim almost never mentions his parents, not even a vague reference. Everyone knows Tim's childhood was shitty and neglectful, but it feels like a sin to bring it up.

It's not truly a surprise that one of the bats developed alcoholism, especially not that it was Tim. He certainly has the trauma and depression, even if not manic like his mother. And he wasn't the first if the bats to have alcohol problems, Jason previously having struggled, celebrating his five years clean this week.

"Get some sleep," Tim advices before grappling away, likely not following his own advice.

* * *

The family waits for its final member to arrive as to commence with the monthly dinner. 

Damian has not a clue as to how none of the other bats notice Tim's issues. All of them use him for their cases, a system for data gathering and running companies. Yet none of them consider the impact on Tim's mental health.

He can hear Tim give a small laugh over the speaker phone. "Of course I'm coming to dinner, Alfred would kill me if I didn't."

Ten.. fifteen… twenty minutes pass before there's the sound of a car coming up the driveway. A small knock reverberates through the house, door opened by Alfred.

Tim comes into the living room, a gray hoodie draped over his too-thin frame. With a slight squint Damian can briefly make out the makeup covering bags and bruises. He curls into the farthest chair, and there's a slight spaceiness in his eyes. Tim exudes an aura of tired and tipsy, something the others fail to notice. 

Just as Damian opens his mouth to question Tim, Alfred comes in to declare dinner ready. Dinner passes with stories and jokes, Tim contributing to a few as expected. Damian can see the mask Tim puts on, far from the former Robin that shows in their private conversations.

As soon as his plate is done, Tim excuses himself from the table and climbs the stairs, soon out of sight. Conversation continues on, but Damian narrows his eyes. Suspension and worry form a knot in his gut, the worst seeming about to happen.

* * *

Tim reads over his note one last time before setting in on the sink. He serves the bat, but the bat does not serve him.

He takes another shakey swig from the bottle of top-shelf whiskey before sinking into the filled tub. He lets out a soft exhale as the cool water hits his skin. He savors the burn in his throat as his fingers grab and twirl chilled razor.

With a fucked up determination, Tim slices into both of his forearms. He was too impatient for sleeping pills and deserves to suffer. And, a filled bathtub helps clean-up. Blood seeps from the slits as Tim manages to down the rest of the bottle before dropping it on the floor.

With a final exhale, Tim shuts his eyes and leans back.

* * *

No one else appears to notice Tim's peculiar behavior. It brings shame to the claim if being a family of detectives. The moment food is gone from Damian's plate he excuses himself to go search for Tim.

The stairs let out familiar creaks as he scales them, not pausing once. Damian heads through the hallway of rooms, pausing in front of Tim's.

He opens the door, room covered in familiar mess and chaos. Coffee cups and scattered papers, unmade covers on the bed. A light peeks out from underneath the connected bathroom, and Damian holds his breath while opening it.

"Call an ambulance," Damian screams, rushing forward.

He pulls Tim's unconscious body from the bloody water, doing his best to apply pressure to the sounds and ignore the empty bottle next to the tub.

He can hear feet racing up the stairs and Jason talking on the phone as they come closer to where the youngest Waynes are. A choked off sob from Dick and Jason dropping the phone he was speaking into as they stumble into the scene reaches Damian's ears.


End file.
